


Melodies of the Past

by Ugo-the-Nerd (NapplePie)



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Ancient Egypt, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Sennen Items | Millennium Items, Verbal Abuse, maybe smut in the future we'll see where this goes, original plotline that takes place 10 years after Atems passing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-10 17:47:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17430596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NapplePie/pseuds/Ugo-the-Nerd
Summary: Besides a crappy past with details you would like to forget, a new flat, university studies, playing melodies on an ancient flute on a job you aren't very confident about, you also stumble over the most annoying, rude and arrogant person ever.Making things worse, you end up in a whole lot of magic and tragic due to the appearance of this handsome, cocky mystery man.





	1. Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> I was Inspired by a lot of YuGiOh Fanfic writers for this and want to thank all these original, talented people to give me some motivation to write again!

_Distant flute play. A familiar sound. Slow steps along a wide corridor. The weight of a limp body in his arms. The echo of footsteps from the walls. Reaching the giant stone slab that stands at the end of the path, he looked upon the figure of a dragon, engraved for eternity. Engulfed by endless sadness, falling to his knees, he let's out a sorrowful scream towards the heavens..._

__

Seto jerked up from his sleep, breathing heavily. Sweat running down his cheeks, caused by his nightly tremor. He ran a hand through his hair, steadying himself.

„It has been a while now since this happened...“

This dream of the past was more than familiar to him and he hated that fact. But what annoyed him the most, are these feelings of his egyptian predecessor seeping into his very core when he remembers what took place over 3000 years ago. The feeling of loosing something so precious, not even death could soothe the pain.

Early morning light shone through the curtains and Seto took a look on his alarm clock.

„4.30am. Might as well start earlier today.“

He grabbed his laptop to get some coding for the new holographic system in development done. Work is the only distraction that will banish these unwelcome thoughts that would otherwise nag him far longer than he wished for. Fixing the codes of his incompetent employees worked almost relaxing on him. It was something he could control. The CEO of Kaiba Corporation can control everything if he wishes so, yet the ability to control his own dreams is not possible. _Not yet, at least._  
With a confident smirk he hammered away on the keyboard to get things done before the sun was up completely.

 

You groaned into your pillow. 4.30am, the digital clock announced with bright red numbers that made you squint in the darkness of the room. It was one of these horrible nights again. Always the same dream that made you wake up in the middle of the night. The early hours of the day were your least favourite time of the day.  
Remembering the sound of your drunk mother stumbling through the entrance hall and slamming the door shut. That's what usually woke you up first back then. The next thing would be darting out of your bed hastily to make sure the door to your room was locked securely, cause then the real nightmare would take place.  
Running back to your bed to hide under the covers, you would shut your ears and eyes as tight as possible and start to hum your favourite songs melody to yourself in an attempt to drown out any other noise.

**BANG!**  
A heavy fist slammed on the door.

**BANG! BANG!**  
Increasing in speed and intensity.

**„You worthless piece of shit! It's all your fault and you know it! If only I didn't gave birth to you!“**

 

You started to hum louder and louder until you couldn't hear her anymore. Maybe not hear, but you knew what she was yelling anyways and how she kept beating and crying against your door. This was something you had to endure almost every night. When you closed your eyes, you could still smell the sour stench of alcohol and dried barf that wafted through the doorgap into your room, making you gag.

 

Shuddering from a cold shower that ran down your back, you shuffled out of the bed and tumbled over to the lightswitch. Only having moved in, you were still lacking some basic household essentials like a bed lamp, but it didn't bother you as much, since you barely spent time in here. The only light you needed was your little nightlight you've put into the outlet beneath the switch. It is the only thing you have kept from your childhood that had fond memories imbued into it.  
A nightlight in the form of a tiny Blue Eyes White Dragon, giving off a gentle pale blue glow.  
It was the first and only gift you ever received. From your father, before he died and left you alone with a broken mother.

_-click-_

The room was bathed in bright white light that stung your eyes. Waddling half blinded back to the bed, you reached out your hand to ruffle through the little mountain of fur that finally decided to wake up as well.

„Morning, Bastet. You ready for an early breakfast, Fluffball?“

Yawning and stretching lazily, the black feline hopped off the sheets and took the lead towards the kitchen with you in tow.

 

„There you go buddy. Your favourite crunchies.“  
Your furry companion launched onto his meal and munched away happily, as you strode towards your fridge. You stopped in your tracks in front of the microwave. The glass reflected your image. The image of a woman that will never quite fit in.  
Platin blonde, almost white hair. Even your eyebrows and lashes the same eerie colour. Not dyed, but natural.  
„The white weirdo“ as kids loved to bully you. At first it did hurt. You didn't even understand why you are so different from other people. But the older you got, the less you cared. You started to like being different and never needed people who would judge others only by appearance anyways.

A confident smile graced your lips and you gave your reflection a sassy wink.

„Time to start the day, weirdo.“ you said teasingly to yourself and went to prepare the daily morning meal of vanilla soy milk and cereals. Not quite healthy, but tasty nontheless.  
After a few minutes, only the crunching sounds of one human and one animal could be heared.


	2. Unexpected encounter leading to drastic measures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even rich assholes get what's coming for them. Yet we still love him anyways.

„Hey, it's finally raining!“

Seto looked up from his laptop, watching the drops of water silently landing on the toned windows of his limousine. It had been far too long since the last rain fell and the heat of this years summer was getting unbearable.

„About time. The constant heat waves were starting to affect the employees. We can't afford to loose any working hands right now.“

He gave his younger brother a meaningful look.

„Ya, i know. Not when we are this close on the finishing touches of the enhanced hologram system.“ Mokuba gave a firm nod before he suddenly decided to change the subject.

„And Nii-san? Don't forget the promise you made me!“

The hope of his younger brother having conveniently failed to remember the upcoming event, just burst like a bubble. Seto pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a sigh of defeat.

„No, I never forget anything. But I do wonder why you would drag me to this exhibition when you know that I don't care about dusty old trinkets and boring stories of the past.

„Come on, it'll be fun. I really wanted to go and see the Egyptian exhibition back then, but with Battle City and all the chaos going on, there was no chance. I'm definitely not gonna miss this one.“

Ever since the departure of the Pharaoh and the vanishing of the Millenium Items 10 years ago, his younger brother had been in contact with Ishizu and the rest of the surviving Tomb Guardians, in his pursuit of learning about Egyptian history. Until now it was only a hobby, but Seto could see the passion in his brother regarding this subject. As long it gave Mokuba joy, he would never stand in his way.  
As for himself, Seto has had enough encounters with occult humbug and creepy Egyptian artifacts. He could do without them, yet there is no way he could refuse his little brothers request.

„As long you don't expect me to fake interest in that stuffy museum, I'll go along with you.“

Mokuba agreed to that condition and gave his grumpy brother a content smile.

„Oh! And there seems to be some kind of demonstration this time. I think it was about an antique instrument. I wonder what it will sound like...“ Mokuba trailed off as he watched the raindrops steadily running down the glass.

„Probably some wrinkled guy banging on some antique drums or something.“ Seto replied sarcastically and went back to focus on his laptop screen.

The younger one giggled at his brothers intense disinterest and returned to his own paperwork piling on his lap.

 

The next day

You were a nervous wreck. Mentally and Physically. Plus it was raining cats and dogs since yesterday morning. Slurping on your cup of tea, leaning on the kitchen counter, you watched Bastet clean her charcoal black ears while trying to collect your thoughts for the day.

Currently on your summer holidays from University, your professor recommended you to work in the Domino City Museum where currently the Egyptian Artifact Exhibition was being held. The professor had a lot of influence around this field and since you were his favorite student, he usually didn't even bothered asking you for permission. Plain to say that you somehow often regretted showing intense engagement during his lessons, but denying that old man's good will was simply not possible for you.  
You've known him since you were little. Professor Cline and your father were best pals since a long time ago and these two were also the reason you decided to follow Dad's footsteps and study ancient Egyptian history and treasures.

There was no denying it that you had grown up buried in your fathers mountains of books and documents. And you enjoyed every minute of it. It always felt like the right way to live. Especially after he had passed away. It was your very own personal way of feeling close to him. Whenever your nose was stuck in a dusty tome, you felt your father right beside you. Excitedly telling you about lost cultures and greedy grave robbers with a passion in his eyes, that made you proud to be his daughter.

But there was one thing your father had left you behind, besides piles of old books. It was an artifact. A golden flute to be precise. After your fathers death, the professor passed it onto you, together with a handwritten note. Scribbled on old, torn parchment.

_„My dear daughter,_  
this is my gift to you. If only I could have heard you play our favorite melody one last time for me. This flute wants to be with you. I can't quite grasp why I am feeling this way, but there must be a meaning to it. Everything has a deeper purpose in life.  
Play it for me, even if only my soul were to hear it...“ 

 

You never really understood what your father tried to convey with his last words, but determined to fulfill his last wish, you kept practicing to play the flute everyday in hopes it would reach him somehow. Although you were still wondering where in Egypt during his travels he could have bought such an beautiful instrument.

A rough lick to your chin snapped you back out of your thoughts. Bastet gave you a neglected look, nudging your hand, which was now holding the once hot tea.

„Oh shit! I gotta run!“

Leaping off the counter you slipped in your shoes, grabbed your bag, umbrella and jacket and gave Bastet a small peck on the furry cheek.

„I'm sorry Fluffball! I promise you get all the belly rubs and crunchies you want tonight!“

Luckily the bus stop was very close to your flat, but it also meant you were WAY too often an offender of being late to literally anything important. Since you took your sweet time getting out of bed.  
Punctuality to events you were dreading to attend, were your god damn Achilles heel.

 

Practically jumping onto the bus and throwing your change at the driver, completely out of breath and drenched to boot, he gave you the ticket with a half smiling and half sympathetic look. You slumped into the last open seat and closed your eyes, mentally going one more time through the performance you would have to hold today.  
Explaining the meaning of music to the ancient Egyptian dynasty and playing the old melody on the golden flute your dad left you with.

You knew you were as prepared as possible, but never had you played in front of an audience. This certainly threw your self-confidence into a roller coaster on top speed; heart beating way too fast to be comfortable anymore. Taking out the flute in its brown leather case, you held it close to your chest, steadying your shaky breath. It had always helped easing nerves.

„Don't worry. I'll be alright, Daddy.“

 

 

„Yay. Old things.“

Seto was everything else but excited as they went up the front steps towards the museum entrance. Mokuba was already ahead buying the tickets and held one to his brother as he finally reached the entrance hall.

„Don't be TOO giddy about this, Nii-san. Your enthusiasm is almost contagious!“

The older one replied with the grumpiest expression possible.

„I can barely contain myself...“

Cynical as always, he followed Mokuba around the halls full of glass cases and pictures. At least seeing his brother smile from ear to ear was worth enduring this torture. They reached the next hall where a small circle of people had already gathered and in the middle was a pale haired woman telling the crowd about times past. Seto reluctantly joined his brothers side, as that one kept waving into his direction annoyingly to get his butt moved over to him.  
They stood and listened together to the young woman's speech.

 

„...and the highest status for a musician in ancient Egypt was for temple musicians, as playing music for a particular god or goddess placed someone in a high position in the culture. In addition, musicians who played for the royal family were also held held in high regard, as were gifted singers. But since my singing voice is quite terrible and I don't want to shatter anyone's eardrums in here, allow me instead to play this old Egyptian melody for you on this flute.“

A few people in the group chuckled.

„This melody also has some very beautiful lyrics that are translated beneath the picture behind me. Please do take a look afterwards.“

She lifted the instrument to her lips, inhaled slowly and started to play.

_Gentle notes were filling the room and before Seto knew it, he was back in that wide corridor, carrying a cold, heavy body. A sorrowful melody resonating through the empty stone halls._

„Nii-san...“

_With every step his heart grew heavier, the knot in his throat tighter._

**„Nii-san! Snap out of it, dammit!“**

 

Seto startled with an audible gasp and came back to reality, looking at his younger brother who was seemingly worried about what the heck was going on.

„Are you alright? As the performance started you suddenly looked like you were somewhere else entirely. I had to almost scream at you to get you out of the clouds. Everyone else already went out.“

He took a moment to register what had just happened. It was not the fact that he spaced out that worried him, but that very melody he heard. It was exactly the same. There's no mistaking it. He had heard it already countless of times in these dreams that haunted him since many years.  
Seto despised to admit that all of this past Egyptian history of his and magic crap of the Millennium Items were the real deal, but after Battle City he learned to at least accept and live with it. If this was destiny again trying to stir shit up, so be it.

He had to find that museum employee at once.

 

 

„Good lord, that was absolutely awful...“

Despite the effort of colleagues telling you how amazingly you performed, you kept pacing back and forth like an agitated animal inside the staff room, while agonizing over every small mistake. Noone seemed to have noticed but you missed quite a lot of notes due to jittery fingers sliding of the flute. You definitely needed more practice to play in front of an audience, as torturous as it might be. This was the chance to let everyone hear your fathers beloved song.  
You kept muttering to yourself until noticing a rather tall person standing in the door frame, watching you with quite the amused expression. Forgetting to close doors behind you when ranting to yourself, was also one of your many vexing flaws it seems...

 

„I didn't mean to interrupt your self-loathing monologue, but I do have a question to ask.“

Rude, was your very first impression of that man.

„So would you mind stopping for a minute and answer me? After that you can continue on, for all I care.“

Scratching that first impression internally, you added „Rude douche bag“ instead.

You had met a fair share of Idiots in life, belittling either your strange looks or choice of interests, so this one was no exception. Holding the strangers look, you stood firm and lifted your chin defiantly.

„I have no reason to answer someone as impolite as you, Sir.“

Deep blue eyes glared back at you.

„You have no Idea who I am, do you?“

“You could be the Pharaoh of Egypt, for all I care. Now if you would excuse me.“

Grabbing your belongings you walked briskly out of the room, as a strong hand gripped your wrist tightly, halting you.

„I wasn't finished talking yet.“

That sounded almost like a threat and you were having none of it. Father didn't only thought you how to dig in dirt for treasures, but also how to defend yourself from persistent and especially ill-mannered people like this certain individual.

You lifted your right leg, put all of your strength into it and kicked his shin. He released you immediately and knelt down with a loud growl, holding his injury.  
Without looking back you dashed for the museum exit and straight for the next bus back home to safety.

 

Seto was on the floor rubbing his bruise, while Mokuba was about to die of a laughing fit.

„I think I like her!“ he blurted out in between giggling attacks.

„What a nasty woman.“ Seto grumbled.

„What an arrogant asshole.“ you fumed.

Although you were pissed at yourself that you had to add a „damn handsome“ in front of the insult afterwards.

You couldn't shake off the feeling that this brutal encounter was going to be a prelude to some dire consequences...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come on. He deserved it...
> 
> *runs back and blows cold air on Seto babies boo-boo*


End file.
